


The Asset

by fab_fan



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Anger, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Background Character Death, Background Relationships, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Drama, Emotions, Espionage, Exhaustion, F/F, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Introspection, Light Angst, Minor Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 01, Psychological Drama, Random & Short, Recruitment, Short One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, Trust, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: “Come with me.” Graves tilted her head.Raelle didn’t budge, “It’s late.”“It wasn’t a request.”Raelle kept her hand on the door, not moving an inch.Graves met her gaze, “Orders. I need you on a truck in five. Let’s go, Private.”
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	The Asset

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure I'm happy with how this turned out (I know I'm not) but wanted to get it out there anyways. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Takes place post season 1.

The room was small. Cold. Empty. Nothing but a large wooden desk shoved near the back wall, a little bit of space reserved for a crude hastily erected chair that looked like it had been placed there out of courtesy than to actually be used. Another chair was dropped in front of the desk, chipped and awkwardly angled. A last minute addition. On the desk sat a lamp, the small bulb barely illuminating the room, shadows dancing in the corners and traipsing across the bland drab whitewashed walls.

No windows.

One door, a scratched demur piece of unpainted wood that led out to a dull yellow fluorescent lit hallway.

Nothing that stood out. Nothing recognizable. 

A forgetful room in a forgotten building.

Raelle took a labored breath, full of the burdens and feelings she shoved down deep into her soul, and let it out slowly, her eyelids heavy and shoulders weighed down by the long day.

It had been a long week.

A long life.

Filled with never-ending classes and brutal obstacle courses. Textbooks and scourges. Lectures and sparring.

The life of a War College cadet.

A life she never envisioned living.

A life she never wanted to live.

Rubbing her face in a desperate useless attempt to ward away the exhaustion clawing at her mind and creasing her brow, the soldier moved further into the room, footsteps casting long thin shadows across the thin papery carpet.

It had been hours.

Hours of waiting.

Not knowing why she was there.

Where _there_ even was.

A small voice in her head told her she should be worried. Concerned.

This wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

But, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been able to since she came back from China.

Since she somehow survived death. 

Survived being left behind, only Abigail staying with her. The helicopters flying overhead, no one trying to help. Sticking around. Giving a damn.

Survived watching one of her best friends, her sister, sacrifice her youth, her life, for Alder. As if it was expected. No recognition of what she was giving up. That she was being taken away from her unit. Her family.

Survived….saying goodbye to her dad. The man who raised her. Watched her grow up. Rocked her to sleep as a baby and wiped away her tears as a child. Told her stories and cooked her dinner. Taught her to drive a car and hugged her as she left to board the bus heading north to Salem. Moved heaven and earth to be at her graduation. Beamed proudly at her in the Fort Salem auditorium.

Her pop.

She swallowed thickly, delicate eyelashes flickering grievously.

Survived learning the love of her life used her. Lied to her. Approached her because she was told to. Kissed her because it was her job. Made love to her. Held her as Raelle whispered about the Cession. About her home. Her past. Her fears. Her doubts. Smiled at her in a way that made the blonde’s heart skip a beat. Made her believe in fate and love and hope. Believe in herself.

Shattered her in a way no one else had before.

In a way no one else could.

The lies.

So many god damn lies.

A deep dark growling anger burned inside Raelle. An ember that refused to die out.

A knotted acrid bitterness filled with such pain that it scorched anything it touched. Black and charred. Destroyed.

An agony that threatened to buckle her knees if she focused on it. Let it. Fed it with memories of watching the life seep out of Abigail's eyes. Watched Tally stand at Alder’s side, an understanding and loyalty shining in her bright gaze. Opened her own blue eyes, body spread out on the frozen concrete floor, Scylla’s face murky in the dark, Izadora’s words repeating over and over in her mind that Scylla was dead.

A pain that choked and choked her until she couldn’t breathe. Gasped for air. For peace. For something other than the sadness and hurt and anger. Drove her to her knees. To the ground. Deeper and deeper until she was six feet under, in a casket meant for her, buried with full military honors while she was collapsing from thirst in the desert.

She’d lost so much, yet she was meant to act like she’d lost nothing at all.

She didn’t even know what to think. To feel. To be.

Inhaling deeply, Raelle lethargically blinked those thoughts away.

She was so tired.

Her body begged to rest. To sleep.

To do what she did every night. Stumble to her bed and collapse on top of it, boots half untied and uniform rumpled enough to barely pass inspection the following morning.

Work herself so hard during the day that all she could do was succumb to slumber once she arrived back at her tiny bunk.

Pray for a dreamless sleep.

It was worse when there were dreams.

Dreams were the home of ghosts. Phantoms. Spirits.

Hauntings.

There had been many the first few weeks after China.

Dreams of death.

Fire.

Sharp blades and warm blood.

Scylla’s face in the dark, tears flowing and scream echoing as Raelle walked away.

Tally’s face, drawn and wrinkled, her youth wiped away in the blink of an eye.

Abigail's hand in hers, the life draining from both of them.

Loss.

Loss and confusion and grief.

An untameable wild animal.

No, she never wanted to dream ever again.

Flexing her fingers, Raelle walked slowly around the room, one staggered step in front of the other. She shuffled to the wall and leaned her shoulder against it, eyes slipping closed for half a second as she rested more and more weight on the sturdy smooth surface. She carefully turned until the back of her head rested on the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes followed a sliver of shadow as it slipped along the seams.

There, alone with her thoughts, in the small space between light and dark, night and day, she locked her jaw to hold back the memories. The thoughts. The whispers that cursed her mind.

_No matter what happens, I love you._

She fought to control her breathing. Counted each heartbeat.

_She told you what you needed to hear._

One. Two. Three. Four.

_I still love you._

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

_Scylla screamed as the door closed behind Raelle with a thud she felt in her bones. She could still hear her lover as she forced her feet to keep moving. Would hear the heartbreaking cry forever. It ripped her apart in a way she could never completely recover from._

Nine. Ten.

_Abigail crumpled beside her, their hands still linked. Dust and sand swirled around them as the helicopter lifted into the air, carrying Tally away, carrying hope away._

Raelle grit her teeth, biting down so hard her jaw ached and her temples throbbed. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sucked in a lungful of air and held it. Kept it inside until her chest burned so hot and painful the memories drifted away and all she could focus on was the need to breathe. 

She couldn’t think about any of it anymore.

Raelle knocked her head back against the wall, not caring that it hurt. Barely even felt it against the pain in her chest. Her crumbled heart.

Everything hurt. All the time. She tried and tried to block it out. Not feel anything. Be numb.

She couldn’t.

She could paint a smile on her face. Show no emotion. 

Go through life. Classes. Training.

Eat. Sleep. Study. Work.

She still felt.

Felt the hands of time and loss clawing at her.

Threatening her.

The darkness inching closer and closer.

Pain.

Agony.

Anger.

So much anger.

Anger at herself.

At Scylla.

At Alder and Anacostia and conscription itself.

At the army.

The Spree.

A sob bubbled in her belly. Rageful and horrible.

Her face wobbled, and her hands shook.

A wound so deep all she could feel was the anger that spread across the surface, the rolling waves of a bottomless ocean filled with such excruciating brokenness that it was too much to bear, stung and sliced at her insides.

Scylla was supposed to take her to the Spree. 

The Spree wanted her. Not Scylla. The Spree.

Raelle slammed her fist back into the wall hard enough to rattle her bones.

Shatter her to her very core.

Strip away everything she once believed in. The last threads of belief left to unravel on the cold unforgiving ground. Threads once held together by her lover’s smirk and whispered words of devotion.

Raelle’s breath hitched, and she roughly pushed away from the wall.

Everyone lied.

Scylla lied to her.

Tally. Anacostia. Izadora. 

Lie after lie after lie after lie.

Betrayal.

She trusted them.

She cared about some of them.

Loved even.

And, they lied to her face.

She was so stupid.

So damn stupid.

Stumbling forward, Raelle’s fingers and knuckles cracked with how tightly her fists curled. She ground her teeth together and stared at the floor. 

Was that why she was there?

_Tugging off her uniform jacket, Raelle blindly tossed it toward the chair, not watching to see if it landed or not._

_She couldn’t bring herself to care._

_Couldn’t bring herself to care about much anymore._

_She plucked at the chain of her medal near the nape of her neck, straightening it out, and ambled toward her bed. Her legs protested each step, the endurance test earlier that afternoon wrecking havoc to her still healing muscles._

_No rest for the weary or the wicked._

_She wasn’t sure which one she was._

_Putting her hand out to ease her body down onto the mattress, she paused as a quiet knock quickly rapped against her closed door._

_She frowned._

_It was late. Way too late for anyone to be visiting. Not even Bellweather would risk getting caught roaming after lights out._

_It wasn’t like anyone visited her much anymore anyways._

_Tally was glued to Alder’s side. Her belief in their leader stronger than ever._

_Abigail was trying to figure out her own life. Caught up in classes, Adil, Petra, and her own path forward._

_She didn’t have any other friends. Not really. Not anymore._

_None that would be at her door._

_Carefully straightening her spine, feeling it click harshly, she made her way to the slab of wood blocking out the rest of the world._

_Scrubbing at her cheeks and rubbing the back of her neck, she swung it open to come face to face with Lt. Helen Graves._

_“Collar,” the woman eyed her, face giving away nothing._

_Raelle gulped._

_Helen._

_The woman who had been there when Raelle faced proof of Scylla’s betrayal._

_The woman Scylla pretended to be once. Fooled her into listening to. Used against her._

_One of so many lies._

_“Come with me.” Graves tilted her head._

_Raelle didn’t budge, “It’s late.”_

_“It wasn’t a request.”_

_Raelle kept her hand on the door, not moving an inch._

_Graves met her gaze, “Orders. I need you on a truck in five. Let’s go, Private.”_

_“Where are we going?” She was sick and tired of people not telling her anything. Keeping secrets. Half-truths. Deception. It led to people getting hurt. Dying._

_She was so tired._

_“Wherever the truck takes you. Need to know only.” Her eyes softened slightly, “I’m not your girlfriend, if that’s what you’re worried about.”_

_Raelle’s spine stiffened, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”_

_“Let’s go, Collar.”_

The ride took over an hour. A small unmarked nondescript jeep had been waiting outside Raelle’s barracks. Helen climbed up front next to a nameless driver who didn’t even look at Raelle while the blonde settled into the back. No one spoke. It was silent. Not even the radio played. The highways were nearly empty on their drive, the endless pavement turning to woodland when they turned off the main roads halfway through and took a bunch of twisting tangled backroads until they stopped in front of the plain unremarkable building in a small out of the way town. 

Raelle had been standing inside this room ever since.

Was she there because Alder finally had enough? Wanted her bomb or else? Was it because the army no longer trusted her? Was it to remind her to keep her mouth shut about the Tarim? About the explosion?

Was it even the army?

Had she fallen for another Spree trap?

Her hands unconsciously clasped together. Her thumb pressed into the center of her left palm, pushing into the mirage of an _S,_ a connection that was no longer there. Hadn’t been for a while.

A connection that never truly died. Only went away. Disappeared.

That still thrummed in her veins like a gentle embrace. Teased her senses. Drew her into a darkness and dragged her towards the light. Pulled her in so many directions and made her wish, if only for a moment, for the world to go quiet.

For Scylla to be there beside her. Holding her hand. Tracing the lines of her skin. 

Kissing away the worries. The fears. The confusion and emptiness and overwhelming emotions.

Craved arms around her. Hands cupping her face. Forehead resting against her own. Breaths mingled. Heartbeats in sync. 

Left her dreaming of a lie because a lie was what she wanted. 

Why couldn’t it all stop?

Give her one moment. One breath. 

Make the anger and heartbreak end.

Before her mind could wander any further, the door creaked open. Raelle peeked through dusty eyes to her side to see who finally showed up.

She instantly snapped to attention. 

Regal and confident, President Wade strode into the room, steps crisp and measured, suit immaculately pressed, eyes laser focused, and face pleasantly blank. Folder in hand, she marched by Raelle, offering her a small tip of her head, and paused at the desk. 

Raelle unconsciously pulled at the hem of her wilted uniform jacket and spun to face the woman. She stood as tall as she could, shoulders still slumped, posture nowhere near as erect as protocol would require. Neither mentioned it. 

Neither seemed to notice.

Raelle gulped away the graininess from her tongue and corner of her eyes. 

What in the hell was the President of the United States doing there?

The older woman set the folder down and flipped it open, revealing a short neatly stacked pile of papers resolutely clipped together.

If Raelle looked, she’d see her official army enlistment photo at the very top. Grim and resentful. Hardened. Silently resistant. 

Instead, she kept her eyes on the President. Confused. 

“Private First Class Raelle Collar.” The president spoke easily. She ruffled a few pages, not really reading, “Quite the record you have here.”

Raelle kept her mouth shut.

Wade glanced up, the edge of her mouth twisting at the lack of reply, “A number of demerits, I see. Received your first one within days of arriving at Fort Salem.”

Raelle had no idea what was happening.

She didn’t like it.

Not at all.

Her mind flashed back to standing in Alder’s office, receiving orders on graduation day.

Orders that would change her life.

She didn’t like that meeting, either.

She shifted her weight slightly on the balls of her feet, uncomfortable and agitated but doing her best not to show it.

Wade slid the folder a few inches away from her and fully faced the young soldier, “It’s late, and I’m not one for bullshit, Private Collar. You’re here because I need your assistance.”

“Ma’am?” Raelle couldn’t hold back the puzzlement.

What was she talking about?

Her assistance?

Wade huffed to herself, “I need someone at Fort Salem who can report back to me about what is happening there. I have my sources, but I need something more substantial. Information about the leadership. Decisions. Movements. Loyalties.”

It clicked.

Raelle felt the cold realization slide down her spine, creeping across her shoulders and settling at the small of her back, “You want me to spy on the army.”

The president was asking her to go against everything...everyone...for her.

“I want you to keep your president informed about what this country’s army is doing or planning on doing. I am forming a small unit to gather pertinent information and data and report directly to me.”

“Don’t you have other people to do that for you, ma’am?”

“If I did, would I be standing in this godforsaken place with you in the middle of the night?”

Raelle’s gaze narrowed, “Why me?”

Wade met her eyes, “I need someone I can trust. Someone not starry eyed about General Alder. Who won’t lie on her behalf or protect her. Sees beyond the myth. I need someone who isn’t so loyal to one of those trying to take Alder’s spot that you’ll lie to get rid of Alder and work to install your favorite in her place. I need someone I can trust to tell me the truth. Not play games. I told you, Collar. I’m not into bullshit. I don’t have the time or the energy for it. I need someone like that, too.”

Raelle shook her head, blinking incredulously as she tried to take this all in. Make sense of it.

Wade wanted someone not loyal to Alder. Or anyone.

No loyalties or ties.

“You’re smart, Collar. I can see from your file and what I’ve been told that you have a mind of your own. Can make decisions. For the most part can focus on the work at hand and not anything else that could distract you from that. Brave.” She moved around to stand in front of the desk, imposing with her arms crossed and stern features, “Let’s be frank, Collar. You’re low enough in ranking to fly under the radar. No one cares about a private. You also know people. You have connections to many of the most important officers and individuals at Fort Salem right now. Your eyes and ears can catch a lot.”

The word slipped out without the blonde needing to think about it, accompanied by a glare, “No.”

“No?”

“No.” She wasn’t going to spy on other witches. Other soldiers. Those just like her. Her friends. Her unit. She wasn’t a liar. Wasn’t going to betray someone. Not like this. Not be a pawn anymore than she already was. “Find someone else.”

Wade nodded once and leaned back against the desk, “You think you’re helping your fellow witches by saying no, but you’re doing the exact opposite.”

Raelle squeezed her hands closed, tendons strained.

She didn’t want to be there.

Wanted to leave.

Not deal with this.

Yet, she didn’t move.

She stayed.

She listened.

Wade spoke firmly. Calmly. “The army has failed to suppress the Spree threat. Defeat after defeat after defeat. Again and again. Thousands of people have died, and we have nothing to show for our efforts except soldiers being sent to more and more battles. The fight against the Spree is failing. Now, the witch military wants to embark on a worldwide conflict with the Camarilla. Civilians who want to kill all of you. People I’ve heard you’ve encountered before, Collar.”

Raelle fought to keep her face unresponsive.

Inside, her heart pounded.

If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the dirt and debris of the fight.

The blood. The smoke. The flames.

Wade exhaled, “I want to help you. I want to help rebuild and strengthen the ties between witches and civilians. I can’t do that with the Spree committing mass killings and the army not ending it. People are scared. Terrified. Witches are killing them, and the witches meant to protect them aren’t stopping it. Civilians don’t trust the witch army anymore. This fear is driving more and more civilians to support the Camarilla and their efforts. Or, at least, to turn a blind eye to it.” 

Raelle’s gaze lowered as the President continued.

Images of the news flashed in her mind. Thousands killed at a mall. An entire cruise ship dead. Anchor after anchor reciting statistics. Death tolls. Describing chaos. 

The Camarilla standing high above her small group, witches strapped to stakes and burned alive. Screaming for help. For mercy. For death.

The faces of civilians in town. Mistrustful. Wary. Nervous. Parents leading their children away from the witch in her striking blue uniform.

“I don’t want to fracture relations with witches anymore than they already are, but I can’t continue to support witches when they are viewed as killers. I cannot be seen supporting terrorists. Who are threats to the safety and security of this country.”

_Couldn’t support._

Raelle’s chest shuddered as the words tossed and turned in her mind.

She knew why the Spree fought. Conscription was slavery. A death sentence.

Soldiers were dying because of it. No choice. No chance.

She also knew civilians were dying. Were being killed.

Civilians like her dad.

She knew the Camarilla were dangerous.

Had never truly gone away.

Were able to rebuild.

Were powerful.

_I can’t continue to support witches..._

“You can help me, Private Collar.” Wade watched her. “General Alder has gone rogue. She ordered you to take part in an unsanctioned and unauthorized mission to China that has harmed diplomatic relations with both the Chinese and the Hague. She kept an accused terrorist in custody and tortured her without informing anyone.”

Scylla.

Raelle felt the punch to her gut. Hot and terrible.

She was talking about Scylla.

Scylla, who had been chained in the basement of the necro building. Tortured. Sentenced to die.

The President’s voice dropped, not losing it’s conviction, but the low almost growl resonated in the silence, “She puppeted me. A clear violation of our laws. What will she do next? What will she do if she continues to lose battles? If she is put in a corner? She is erratic. Potentially dangerous. Does she care about her country and her troops...or herself?”

Raelle tilted her head down.

Her unit didn’t make War College, though it was revealed they had some of the highest scores across the board, after telling Petra about Scylla. They were sent on a mission they weren’t prepared for. 

Alder lied about what happened near Boston. When she ordered them to take out a truck with civilians inside.

Wade’s voice turned measured but still had an edge to it, “The Spree cannot win, either.”

Raelle’s head snapped up.

“Sooner or later, the insurrection will be put down.” Wade eyed her carefully. “There is no pathway for them. Not as killers. Terrorists. Eventually, the hammer will drop, and life will only get more difficult for _all_ witches. The world sees them as terrorists. They _are_ terrorists. There is no possible way they can be allowed to go on as they have been. Rumor is Alder may be trying to form an alliance...and not tell me.”

Raelle bit her tongue hard enough to taste iron.

The Spree.

Scylla.

“The violence committed by the Spree is not the way. It only makes things worse. Civilians continue to be frightened. Scared. They want justice. They want to be safe. They have been and will continue to turn to other ways to feel protected if they view _all_ witches as the threat.”

The Camarilla.

She meant the Camarilla.

Raelle felt her chest tighten.

“I can help, but only if I’m allowed to. I cannot work with terrorists. I cannot work with a military no one can trust. I do not want to end witch-civilian relations. But, I need help. I need information. People I can trust and work with. People who want to _fix_ things.”

Fix things.

Wade unfolded her arms, “You’re half witch-half civilian, Private Collar. You understand both sides of this issue. Maybe the army wants you to forget that. Forget your heritage. Pretend you are fully a witch. Forget who your father is. But, I’m not. I am asking you to be who you are. To help me. You have civilian blood in you, too.”

Raelle stared at her. 

Hard.

Work for the president.

Be a spy.

Spy on Tally, who, ever since being turned into a biddy and back, had vouched for Alder, spoke highly of her, protected her. Lied to her about Scylla’s death. But...was her first friend. Her sister. Her unit mate.

Spy on Abigail, whose mother Petra was head of Intelligence. Who was in line to take over once Alder was fired. Got Abigail into War College and no one else. Abigail, who chose to stay behind when everyone else left. Was her family. Stuck by her side no matter how harshly they tangled.

Spy on Anacostia. Izadora. Her instructors. The generals. The other officers. Cadets. Soldiers. Spree.

Scylla.

Spy on everyone she loved.

Spy on her family for someone she didn’t know.

Spy on Alder, who would easily and swiftly send her to a Caribbean prison cell or worse if she found out. Maybe even go after someone she cared about. Her dad.

How could she trust Wade?

Was Wade lying to her too? Using her?

Did Wade actually care about witches? 

The government had kept her kind shackled for generations. Invisible chains in the form of conscription.

A death sentence.

Wade never spoke of ending it. 

Never spoke of helping witches. Changing anything. 

As if reading her mind, Wade’s voice rose, “You may not trust me yet, but...how much do you trust the army? General Alder? The Spree?” She took a step forward, “I understand this is a difficult decision. I do. But, I am asking you. Do you distrust me as much as you distrust them? People who have lied to you again and again? Caused so much loss? Think of all those who have died at the Spree’s hands. Think about your friend Private Swythe - killed during a mission she never should have been on. Think of yourself.” She took a breath, “Think about the upcoming war. How many more need to die? Civilian or witch? People like your father. Like your friends.”

Wade took another step, now only a foot between them.

“I have yet to lie to you, Private Collar. The same cannot be said for anyone else. If you want to protect people, keep others safe, then help me. We can fix this. Makes things better for everyone.” She held Raelle’s eyes, “Can I trust you? Will you work with my team?”

Raelle swallowed.

* * *

As Raelle stumbled out of the building, she squinted up into the early dawn, the sun hinting at the horizon and casting a blinding sweep of yellow tinged light across her vision. She raised her hand to her brow to block out the unexpected flash of color. Blearily, she picked her way toward the parked jeep, legs unsteady from the long night and mind reeling with what she had been told.

What she had chosen to do.

Spotting two figures standing near the hood of the vehicle, she let her hand drop listlessly to her side, palm brushing against her leg, and carefully approached them.

She paused as the two conversing figures stopped their quiet discussion and turned toward her.

She almost rocked back on her heels at the faces taking her in.

“Welcome to the team, Collar.” Helen Graves gave her a curt nod, smirk playing at her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> There we are.
> 
> Good? Bad? Ugly? You know the drill, folks. Feel free to leave a kudos or comment, and I will adore you forever.


End file.
